A place to gather words before they get lost.
Hidden blooms inside the rooms of forgotten trails,
the Mountain Laurel sits patient, and ready, for sunlight and rain
In late spring, as summer sings its early song, the laurel opens its flowers
like pretty origami rice bowl folds, beneath a shaded forest
for #mastoprompt
The old stone fence running in the woods along property lines has long become bent and broken
weathered time, and tree seedlings nesting inside gaps, replace man's desire for order in the wood
A hundred years from now, the forest will reclaim itself, and mossy rocks will be only faint echoes of places where one land ends, and the other begins
for #mastoprompt
In sheltered earth, among bugs and worms
the seeds, sleep - buried deep -
the awakening, then the growth then a tender harvest,
for another season, for now, can keep
for #mastoprompt
A stubborn plant, ever persistent in its need for sun, finds a means to make its way back
This flower's rooted in the sandy soil of the city's broken concrete sidewalk crack
for #mastoprompt
Crimson-colored with orange veins and browning edges
the Sugar Maple leaf drops
to join its brethren on the crumpled floor of an expanding seasonal canvas
for #mastoprompt
Car windows, frosted; Autumn air, full moon – painting fractals on the glass
for Algot
You’ve been whittled, tree, but it seems to me love still comes from birds and bugs
Listening to the Landscape: Four Poems
00:00 – 1:04
Pebbled paths wind through knotted woods
I thought I understood where I was going but then, at the mark on the tree -
a lightning strike echo from some stormy night -
I was lost, and it was fine
- 1:04 – 2:30
Legs dangling over air, if one looks close enough, the ocean is there, somewhere, and here we are, breathing silence for a world unfolding forever
- 2:30 – 3:19
At some point, we're no longer paddling
just floating
wandering where the currents take us, and never quite knowing
the destination
- 3:19 – 3:57
If day were night, it would be like this
shadowed trunks and shadowed kiss
the smell of pines with cones, broken
then sunlight beams a doorway, opens
Swoop and loop and alley-oop - the butterfly sings shadows to a setting sun
I've begun to count how many times the flowers hide their calling rhymes
as I map the path to mark the start from where this gentle flier's first begun
for #mastoprompt
A snake on the surface of water
in forward motion, an undulating pattern
of twist and turn, and intention
we watch the trail, ripple; surface writing the river currents
to the sea
for #mastoprompt